Beskar'Gam
by TheRealSokka
Summary: Set during "Heroes of Mandalore". A little reflection on how their amor is a key part of of the Mandalorian culture.


**I'm not entirely satisfied with this one, but I also can't seem to make it any better, so here it goes. For some reason I like to write about side characters, and it turns out the room for making up a story can be rather limited in some cases.**

* * *

 **Beskar'Gam**

Captain Hark stood in the back of the room, his eyes fixed on the holo-screen, as he watched the scene unravel before his eyes. He saw the inflammable _beskar_ armors melt, and with it the warriors concealed within. There was a short struggle as they were pierced by the lightning, but none managed to fire another shot. The massacre lasted mere seconds, by the end of which only charred metal remained on the field. When the Stormtroopers moved in for the clean-up, Hark looked away from the screen and turned his attention to the other person in the room.

Tiber Saxon's satisfaction was palpable even in profile. The young governor of Mandalore had just proven his worth to the Empire, and dealt a massive blow to the insurgents at the same time. "The weapon is fully operational; as promised, Grand Admiral." he concluded his report

The hologram of Grand Admiral Thrawn nodded. If he was impressed, he didn't show it. "Effective, yes, but you miss the true artistry of this weapon, Governor Saxon: It turns armor, legendary foot strength, into a crippling weakness; and, it strikes at the very heart of your people's _tradition_." He accentuated the last word strangely.

Saxon frowned. Hark assumed he had expected a more laudatory response. "You said the Emperor wanted this uprising dealt with quickly; this will end it."

There was a slight pause on Thrawn's end: "You're- different than your brother. How would Gar Saxon feel about you betraying your heritage?"

Saxon did not even flinch at the word 'betraying'. "He no longer feels anything." he said sarcastically. He straightened up; an epitome of easy confidence: "I have evolved. Mandalore must evolve with me."

Thrawn's expression was unreadable. He turned away from the governor, as if in thought. Then he asked: "Once your people see their sense of security turned against them, do you believe they'll swear loyalty to the Empire?"

"A Mandalorian without armor is no more than a common soldier. Fear will compel them to join the Empire."

It was an effort to keep silent.

"We shall see." There was a note of amusement in Thrawn's voice now: "Of course, the weapon's range is far more limited than you promised. Or, perhaps you thought I wouldn't notice?"

By the way Tiber Saxon lowered his head; the Grand Admiral had hit the mark. "I only have pieces of the prototype." he defended himself. "I've done everything I could…"

"You cannot get it working properly because you do not truly understand it." Thrawn interrupted him. He sounded like a teacher reprimanding an ignorant pupil. "You need the weapon's creator. You need Sabine Wren."

 _That traitor,_ Hark thought. _She should be shot on sight, not allowed to continue her work_. Her creation was an offence to everything the word _Mandalorian_ stood for. Granted, the weapon had proven useful against the rebels- but what he had seen on the recording somehow did not feel like a victory.

However, that was not the view Saxon took in the matter. He had always argued that one should use what one was given, and that included The Duchess, as Wren had called her weapon in her arrogance. To some extent the captain agreed with that point of view. In this case however, Hark wondered whether the governor was aware of the implications of handing the Empire a weapon of this magnitude.

The Grand Admiral clearly considered the meeting finished. His hologram dissolved. Tiber Saxon looked less than happy with the conversation, a feeling his captain shared, albeit for different reasons. Hark could no longer keep silent. He stepped forward: "Governor, I mean no disrespect, but what is to stop the Empire from using the weapon against us as well?" Ever since he had witnessed the first successful test run, this worry had always been on his mind, and the governor had done nothing to appease it.

Saxon seemed a little surprised by the question. "Unquestioning loyalty, captain." he said, as if that settled the matter. "Now, find Sabine Wren."

It was a dismissal, yet Hark remained where he stood. Either his superior was entirely blind to the consequences of his actions, or his words to Thrawn had been more than just flattery. _Mandalore must evolve with me_. It was an open threat to Mandalorian tradition, as Thrawn himself had pointed out; but in its extremity it was too unnerving for Hark to believe. _It was just to appease the admiral, surely_. Tiber Saxon was always playing the long game. The captain tried addressing a more immediate issue: "Shouldn't you be more worried about Wren being out of our control? If the family now decides to advance their insurgencies, we…"

"Will bring them down once and for all, captain." His comment was full of scorn: "Let Alrec spray a little more graffiti if he likes; he won't accomplish anything." Saxon was clearly growing impatient. "You say the Countess Wren was left to wounded to stand by our Duchess, and she is the heart of it. Without her, the rebels lack the strength to openly attack us."

Hark swallowed the rest of what he had wanted to say. "As you say, sir."

"Find her." the governor repeated, before departing without another glance.

The captain wasn't so certain about the truth of his assessment. It was true that Ursa Wren's fighting prowess was what had caused them sleepless nights; not her husband's artistry. But her daughter, the Imperial deserter, seemed to match her in that regard, as she had proven in the attack on his convoy. The way she had outmaneuvered his soldiers was something he had to respect, albeit grudgingly. If anything, he guessed that her mother's injuries would only make her, and clan Wren as a whole more dangerous.

And she bore the Dark Saber.

It was beyond him how she of all Mandalorians could have acquired the ancient weapon after it hadn't been seen for decades, but there it was, in her hand, and she knew how to use it. There was no telling how the other clans would react once the rumor spread. Some might even see her as the rightful successor to Mandalore's throne.

He grunted. A traitor wielding a ruler's weapon was still a traitor. She would never be accepted. Nonetheless, she had to be found, and quickly. He and the governor were on the same page in this matter.

That did not mean Wren would be easy to find. The traces the rebels left were meagre at best. His first stop led the captain to the Star Destroyer's scanner room. It was packed with Imperial analysts, most of which were already investigating the lead that had brought him here: trying to trace the Wrens' escape since the convoy-attack. As the chief supervisor reluctantly told him, they had not had much success. After shooting down the pursuing TIEs, the rebels' fighter had vanished from all screens; and the only thing they could say for a certainty was that they had to still be somewhere on the planet, since the Star Destroyer in orbit had not reported any departing space craft.

It was unlikely that the analysts would come up with something this long after the attack, but Hark didn't care to stop them. After all, there were not many other possibilities to find the rebels. They were not stupid enough to show up at their old hiding places, which the Empire had under surveillance, nor did there seem to be an identifiable pattern in their attacks- and now that they had freed Alrec Wren, even this last predictable factor had been removed. It was frustrating. Hark moved over to a window that surveyed the main hangar, letting his eyes wander across the parked TIE fighters. He hardly saw them; in his mind, he once again reviewed what he knew about the Wrens, both from their files and from personal experience. He couldn't discern what their strategy was: They were dangerous, yes, but far too few and too outgunned to present a realistic threat. They could not hope to win, not while clan Saxon had the Empire's backing. So what was their plan? Hiding and striking at their convoys would not work for long, especially not once Thrawn became involved- which he just might do once Saxon delivered a fully functional weapon. And their spirits would be low, now that they had seen the destruction that this weapon was already capable of. They could not hope to prevail.

 _If I was Wren, what would I do? What would she do after witnessing the power of her weapon first hand, and half her family nearly killed?_

The answer came to him suddenly: _Get a hold of the weapon and turn it against us_. It was her creation; if she were allowed anywhere near it, she could likely upgrade it to the point where it didn't even need to see its targets to annihilate them. It would instantly turn the tables in the rebel's favor. The next thought was even more disturbing: _And that would truly be the end of our culture. Our weapons and armor would mean nothing. How would we fight someone who can destroy us with the press of a button?_ It was the coward's way, but what else could be expected from a traitor who forswore her home; a _dar'manda_?

He frowned. Would she dare it, though? If she even knew where her weapon was kept, would she dare attack them right outside the capital? At first glance it seemed unlikely. But then again…

His com rang. He had to take a moment to clear his head before he answered. Saxon's voice spoke up: "Captain. How is the search coming?"

Hark glanced at an analyst, who shook his head. "Not well." he had to admit. "We lost contact shortly after the destruction of our TIEs, and they haven't re-emerged since." He paused for a moment: "Sir, I think it possible they are planning to infiltrate this ship and steal the weapon."

Saxon laughed: "They would never dare attack us here where we have every advantage. I'd be glad to see them try; it would be a pleasure to present their rebel heads to Thrawn."

Hark paused. Was he being paranoid? It was just a feeling, yet still…"It might be they're that desperate. After seeing The Duchess in action, they must be aware that they can't hope to beat us while we have it in our arsenal. But if they could turn it against us... With the Jedi's support, the Wrens might think they have a chance."

There was a long silence on the other end. Finally Saxon said: "If they are indeed that foolish, it could be our best chance to capture Sabine Wren. That bears thinking about…" Another pause followed. Then: "Captain, you will remove The Duchess from its walker and bring it up to the hangar control room. Make sure it has an adequate power supply. It will be easy to access for any intruder- or so they'll think." The com went dead.

Hark had noted the word 'capture', not 'eliminate'. So Saxon actually intended for Wren to continue her work. Work on a weapon that could melt _beskar_ , the heart of Mandalore's strength. It troubled him deeply. And he couldn't suppress his doubts any longer: Could everything he suspected Sabine Wren to do also apply to Tiber Saxon? _No._ He _is no traitor; he is Mandalorian… Isn't he?_ The governor acted from entirely different motives; but the motives would hardly matter once anyone had their finger on the trigger of The Duchess.

With an effort, Hark stopped his train of thought at this point. It was no use; he owed his loyalty to Tiber Saxon, as he had been loyal to Gar Saxon before him. He was the leader of the clan now. More, he was the leader of Mandalore. If he defied him, he would be no better than Sabine Wren.

His gaze fell on a lone walker down in the hangar. He gave it a dismayed look. The machine labeled The Duchess seemed to stare back. In private, the Mandalorians had given it an altogether less flattering name. _Well then,_ Duchess _. You're going for a walk._

It took six of his men to remove the machine from its casing. They carried out the task swift and efficiently. And delicately, very delicately. Nobody was anxious to find out how the device reacted if it was set down a little too harshly; not while they were all wearing _beskar_.

There was no talking on the way to the control room. The Mandalorians did not enjoy being this near to the weapon. Hark, who was bringing up the rear, had his own reasons for disquiet, yet the continued silence made him even more uneasy. His men's refusal to talk aloud would normally not have been unusual. But when he checked on his HUD, their private coms were dead silent as well- at least to him. Within their helmets, where no one could listen in, they usually didn't hold back with their opinions, and he didn't think they were doing so now; more likely he wasn't invited in. Whatever the captain heard, he could report to Governor Saxon. He smiled a bitter smile: if only the man would listen.

Once the machine had finally been plugged into the control room's mainframe, he took one of his men aside. Arden, he thought, though he couldn't be entirely sure now that their armor all looked the same. "Put the men on high alert. Governor Saxon thinks the rebels will try to sneak aboard soon."

"Understood." His second in command's voice said from behind the visor.

"And if you or the others have complaints," Hark said sharply, "I'd like you to tell me directly. Honesty is not a crime yet."

Arden straightened up: "I will tell them so. Thank you, sir." He turned to go, then seemed to think better of it: "If I may take you by your word and be blunt, captain, don't expect them to show particular vigor when it comes to defending this thing." he said, pointing at The Duchess.

Hark wouldn't have thought so. "Point taken. But Governor Saxon has made his position clear, and as long as this machine is needed, it is better kept with us than with that traitor Sabine Wren." he stated with all the conviction he could muster. Arden didn't answer. "You disagree?"

Arden lowered his gaze to The Duchess. "If the Viceroy was still in command we wouldn't even be having this discussion." he said bluntly. "Gar Saxon would have thrown this abomination out the airlock before even considering using it."

This conversation was bringing up too many points that Hark would have preferred not to think about. "The Viceroy is dead. Tiber Saxon is our leader now, and he thinks this is the quickest way to end the rebellion." _And he intends to throw away all vestiges of our heritage if it improves his standing with Empire_. He was suddenly certain of that, but he left it unsaid.

Arden's answering scoff was a confirmation of how hollow he sounded. The soldier turned away, but Hark could perfectly understand his parting remark: "We might as well be dressing up as Stormtroopers soon."

The captain remained alone in the control room. Finally, he began to move as well. He had to prepare for the rebels' attack.

In the quiet of his quarters, he removed his armor. The _beskar'gam_ had been painted a dull white, in imitation of the Imperial Stormtroopers' suits. One of the many changes that had come from the alliance with the Empire. His gaze lingered, remembering. It had been a sacrifice to paint over his old markings and the formerly dark green coloring, yet Gar Saxon had required it of them and at the end of the day, under the white it was still his same old iron skin. Now, however, Tiber Saxon and Sabine Wren planned to skin it off entirely- either voluntarily or with the help of The Duchess. Hark had never resented someone as much as in this moment.

He took up the _beskar_ plate and felt for the scars that blaster shots had left in the smooth surface. The marks of near a dozen survived battles. This armor should be the one thing standing between him and death, yet now when he wore it, he felt as if a target had been painted on his back. And the worst thing was that a fellow _Mando_ was the one aiming the gun. This was not how it was supposed to be.

Across the many races that made up the Mandalorian culture, the armor should be the unifying factor; the one thing that made them alike not only in spirit but in looks as well. Under the helmet, you could be Sakiyan or Twi'lek, Human or Rhodian; when you wore _beskar_ , you were _Mando_. In _beskar_ , you had only the allegiance to your family and to your clan, but the pledges you made to them had to be honored. It was more than a piece of metal; it was a philosophy, a way of life. One that had allowed the _Mando_ culture to endure for thousands of years.

What had happened so suddenly to call all of it into question? Only years past, clan Saxon, led by the Viceroy, had for the first time in centuries accomplished a true unity of almost all the houses. In a forced alliance with the Empire, yes; but Mandalore had stood as one, ready to face any adversary. And now, after his brother's death, Tiber Saxon threatened to divide them more than ever, for no other reason than to ingratiate himself with the Empire. The cracks were already showing among his own soldiers- and if he was honest, Hark himself was finding himself uncertain of his loyalties. He understood Saxon's respect for the Empire- who wouldn't have respected that kind of military power? - , but handing them a weapon that would destroy the Mandalorians' way of life went too far, and he was certain that Viceroy Gar Saxon would never have agreed to it.

He sighed. Whichever way he spun it, no matter whose finger was on the trigger: it looked like it wouldn't be much longer before wearing _beskar_ at all became a death sentence.

But what could he do about it? _Nothing_ , he thought. His allegiance was to the governor and his clan. _Saxon is only using what Wren created,_ he tried to convince himself _. Once this rebellion is crushed, there will be no more need for it._ He desperately hoped that Saxon would see that as well. _Wren is the one solely responsible for this abomination. And she will answer for it._

 _But Tiber Saxon won't stop using it,_ was his last thought before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


End file.
